


We Wish You A Mirror Christmas

by SuperChickenDX



Category: Kamen Rider Ryuki
Genre: Choking, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, M/M, Non-Consensual Groping, Oral Fixation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21954286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperChickenDX/pseuds/SuperChickenDX
Summary: The world of Ryuki cycles on and on, and its repeatedly restarting time must see Christmas come over and over. This time round, Kitaoka’s Christmas is stranger than normal… but will he learn anything from the messages of his mysterious nocturnal visitors???
Relationships: Kitaoka Shuuichi/Yura Gorou
Kudos: 6





	We Wish You A Mirror Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gulpereel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gulpereel/gifts).



> Katy if you don't put any prompts in for the secret santa then I guess you get what you get is me taking a gigantic hit off Inoue and writing whatever this is. Merry Christmas.

“It’s a wonderful time of year, don’t you think, my dearest Goro?”

Kitaoka took a huge sip of very expensive red wine from his almost comically oversized glass, and watched as his secretary-cum-housekeeper bent over to clean. “Everyone gets terrifically drunk and sick of each other. Just as soon as the holidays are over, the housewives are knocking on my door begging for my services because they’ve found out about the mistresses, and either told their husbands they’re getting divorced or just stabbed the poor bastards. Happy new year indeed! What’s for dinner?”

Goro stopped cleaning for the moment, and stood facing Kitaoka. How terrible of him. “I have prepared a delicious cold platter for you, sir, and left in in the fridge.”

Kitaoka nearly dropped his glass. “Cold? Are you leaving me this season too, Goro?”

“As we discussed previously, sir, I have made plans to visit family this evening.”

“Aha…” He took a moment to top up his wine as he scrambled to remember the details. “Your little sisters?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, very well. I suppose if I stretch myself to my absolute limits I shall just about manage to avoid dying without you here for a while.”

“Thank you, sir. I shall be off as soon as I have finished cleaning.”

“When will you be back?”

“It should be late tonight, sir.”

Kitaoka grumbled, but stopped as soon as Goro resumed his cleaning. After all, it was a lovely view.

* * *

After seeing Goro off at the door, Kitaoka diligently set himself to his work and his wine. Keeping on top of work now meant he’d be able to make the most of the post-holiday rush. The dark hours wore on, but he barely noticed as the weather worsened. The wind howled, the thunder crashed, the walls sang with an eerie ring, but Kitaoka kept working. He forgot his dinner, and called for Goro twice, only to be met with echoes.

Eventually, he looked up to stretch. A gaunt man in a trenchcoat had appeared in the full length mirror across the room.

Kitaoka did not scream.

Kitaoka had been ambushed by unhappy clients too often to scream.

“Who the devil are you?”

“Kitaoka Shuichi,” the ghastly figure intoned, “you will have three meetings tonight.”

“What? With who?”

“Your visitors have grave warnings for you!”

Kitaoka pinched the bridge of his nose in the vain hope it would stop the room from spinning. “Just to clarify- is this the first meeting?”

“I am informing you of three meetings to come.”

“So I will have four meetings tonight, of which this is the first. Really, that’s sloppy. If you’re subpoenaing someone, you have to get your own communication in order, with clear and correct times and places. And state your purpose!”

“You must fight, to survive this night!”

“Why? What is going on!?”

“Fight, Kitaoka!”

Lightning flashed, and the room went dark.

* * *

Kitaoka awoke, head resting on a murderer’s case. Had he really fallen asleep? His wine glass was empty, and his wine bottle was empty, and his other wine bottle was also empty. Well, no wonder he’d ended up taking a nap before bedtime. And since the bottles were still there, Goro wasn’t back yet. He cursed.

He briefly looked over the old file, photograph of a sour-looking blonde man on the front, then put it back in its folder and went upstairs to his luxurious silk pyjamas and comfy bed.

* * *

There was a shattering of glass, and Kitaoka awoke. There was heavy breathing in the darkness, and as he squinted, the face of a man resolved itself in the broken mirror of his wardrobe door. The man from the murder file. A dream?

“Kitaoka Shuichi,” he growled.

Or an intruder?

Kitaoka did not scream. There was a baseball bat down at the side of the bed, if only he could reach it unnoticed. “Asakura Takeshi,” he said, stalling. “What brings you to my mirror? If you died in prison and became a ghost, they really should have called your lawyer. Who is me. Why wasn’t I informed?”

Asakura leapt forth from the glass, landing real and solid on the bed, and roughly grabbed Kitaoka’s chin. “You remember how you left me to rot in prison.”

“Yesh!” Kitaoka snapped back, jaw trapped by Asakura’s stinking hands. “Yoo were guilty of sherial murder, and proud, and ignored every inshtruction I gave yoo! Of coursh yoo got locked up for life! Dere’s only sho mush you can do wif a noncompliant client!”

Asakura forced Kitaoka’s head down to the pillow. There was no hope for Kitaoka to reach the bat now, trapped by Asakura’s weight on top of his hips. He would either die, or wake up, or maybe saintly Goro would reappear and save him- and he was supposed to be here anyway, so it shouldn’t have gotten to this stage. But Asakura’s other hand was on his neck, and starting to squeeze, and his vision swam with dark spots.

“I want to kill you. I want to do it before anything else can. There were other people in prison who wanted revenge on you. But I didn’t want any of them to get out and get to you first. So I got rid of them.” Asakura barked a laugh. “Maybe it’s not so bad in there after all, if the guards don’t care when people go missing! And then once you’ve finished off the other inmates, you move on to killing the guards, and then you go to another one…”

Kitaoka clawed vainly at Asakura’s descending face. He felt a sudden sharp pain in his lip, and blacked out.

* * *

Kitaoka awoke, and found himself alone once more, with ringing in his ears. What a rotten nightmare! Perhaps there had been something wrong with the wine. Perhaps it had been poisoned by a vengeful client or former lover. That would have been exciting, if it had happened to someone else, but there was little profit in suing someone for your own sake.

He sat up and wiped his mouth. A smear of blood appeared on the back of his hand. He must have bitten his lip in his sleep.

“Oi,” said someone.

Kitaoka looked into his mirror. It was still broken. And in the mirror, he saw an unfamiliar man dressed all in black. Surly, but pretty.

“Who are you?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes? You’re in _my_ mirror.”

“Look, just get in here will you?” The man extended his hand out of the mirror. Kitaoka got out of bed, corrected his stumble magnificently, and walked over absolutely, definitely, smoothly. He grasped the man’s hand- warm and solid, just as Asakura had been- and felt his whole body ring as he was pulled through the mirror.

The man led Kitaoka through his own house, unsettlingly flipped backwards, and outside to a pair of strange capsule-like motorcycles. He got into one and turned the engine on, as instructed, and followed his odd companion through a tunnel of shifting mirrors. Upon exiting, they were outside a darkened apartment block. Kitaoka followed the other man up and into an empty condo—

—And through a mirror on the living room wall, he saw Goro sitting on a sofa with a woman, as a storm raged outside.

“… really, expecting you back tonight is too much. You need more breaks from working for that man, Goro,” she was saying.

“I’m fine, sis. He’d be lost without me, I know.”

“Plenty of men would be lost without a housewife, and that doesn’t mean they’ll actually die if they have to learn to cook for themselves. How many times have you grumbled to me about his woman of the week?”

“How many times have you complained to me about the little ones getting into trouble?”

“They’re our sisters! We love them!”

“Well,” Goro gestured widely, and sipped from a mug instead of continuing from there.

Kitaoka turned away from the chatter to glare at the mysterious man. “Why did you bring me here?”

“You need a reason,” the man replied.

“A reason? For what?”

“Survival. I’ve seen this all before and I need you to do well.”

“What the hell—”

“Ssh,” the other man urged. “Listen to him.”

“… isn’t safe with the old gang still sniffing about, anyway,” Goro was saying, “so the money I earn from Kitaoka will have to do. And he’s being so generous to us, covering our tiny Tomoko’s medical fees in full. Besides, I really do love being with him.”

“I know you do. I just wish he felt the same about you.”

“Hm.”

“Come on, let’s get your bed set up here. Power should be back on in the morning…”

Kitaoka walked away from the mirror, retreating through the empty apartment. Did Goro really not feel appreciated? How long would Goro stay? How long would he last, really, without Goro? 

The man in black caught up with Kitaoka’s long strides. “You should be honest with him. You never know when you’ll lose someone.”

Kitaoka refused to say anything as he climbed into the bike seat.

“Well, there’s your warning,” the man said to the closing capsule, “take it or leave it. I can work with either.”

As Kitaoka sped through the mirror tunnel and into darkness, his mind reeled.

* * *

Kitaoka awoke, once more, in his own bed. One more visitor to go. He stood up in front of the shattered mirror, and waited for them to appear. It wasn’t long before the sinister ringing noise, and a figure came into view— a dark haired man, in his late 30s, unplaceable but not entirely unfamiliar.

“Have I not suffered enough yet?” Kitaoka asked.

The man slowly smiled a thin, horrid smile, and shook his head. Kitaoka felt his skin crawling off in an attempt to save itself.

Kitaoka squinted and begged his wine-soaked brian to work. “Your face looks familiar. Are you related to that ratty little journalist who works for the lovely Reiko? What’s his name again? Shaun? Kit?”

“You will die,” the man said.

“… it happens to a lot of people. I hardly see why it’s worth waking me up to tell me about it.”

The man reached out and pressed a finger to Kitaoka’s lips. “You try to be in control of everything, but your own body is growing out of control beneath you, deep tissue flowering with disease.”

He seized the moment of surprise and pushed that finger into Kitaoka’s mouth, exploring the shapes of his teeth. “You’ve been avoiding going to the doctor, haven’t you? Because you’ll have to hand over control to someone else. Easier to die because of your own corruption than to face the care honestly.”

“Nnn.”

The man hooked his finger inside Kitaoka’s cheek, and pulled him through the mirror- immediately turning him to face the way he’d come, his back pressed to the man’s front. Kitaoka now saw himself lying in the bed, still, and Goro kneeling at the bedside, head resting beside his on the pillow, body shaking as he sobbed.

“Do you want to be loved, Kitaoka?” the mysterious man cooed, pushing another finger inside Kitaoka’s mouth, and began to slide them in and out. “Or do you simply want to be taken breathless, relinquishing everything, not having to think or do or even care about the damage you’re suffering? Is that why you like tough boys and headstrong women?”

“I wand do be lefd a— _ah—_ ” As soon as Kitaoka answered, the other man began to gently stroke the roof of his mouth, and Kitaoka trembled.

The man’s free hand came up to squeeze Kitaoka’s chest. “You surrendered to me without even a moment of fighting, you know,” he whispered against Kitaoka’s ear, and laughed—

—before abruptly pushing Kitaoka back towards the image of his dead self, and Kitaoka fell into Kitaoka—

* * *

—and woke to the normal sounds of things being moved around in the kitchen downstairs. The nightmare was over, the sun was up, and Goro was home. Kitaoka sat up, and his head throbbed with the aftereffects of last night. But there was already a glass of water on his bedside table, and a packet of painkillers. Goro! Beautiful Goro. How precious he was. And how important it was to let him know it!

… after all, if the visions from last night had any truth to them, he would have to rely on Goro to take care of his health even more from now on.

But that was a problem for a future Kitaoka to deal with. Now was the time to take him medicine and attend to things downstairs, pausing only to put on a robe.

“Good morning, dear Goro!” he called down.

“Good morning, sir!” came the reply, and then Kitaoka saw his faithful attendant. “My apologies for my absence last night. I couldn’t get back in the storm, and I thought it was too late to call without waking you.”

“Well, even you must be fallible in some things. Did you have a nice time with your sisters? Really, you should have taken a few days with them to enjoy the season.”

Goro looked unexpectedly wounded. “Don’t you remember what day it is today, sir?”

“… Wednesday?”

“It’s Christmas Day, sir. And there’s nowhere I’d rather spend it than by your side.”

“Oh, Goro…” Kitaoka’s heart squeezed tightly. “I shall go out and buy the biggest chicken possible to fry!” And that would give him the chance to pick up a present, and get some good wine that Goro didn’t already know about, and refresh his condom supply- definitely important to stock up on those for the coming months, before he got too ill to shag- and then they would spend a cosy evening together. 

“By the way, sir, a package came for you.”

“Oh?” He took the small package from Goro and opened it. It was some sort of plastic case, with a deck of strange cards inside. His body tingled in an unpleasantly familiar way when he touched it. There was no note to indicate where it came from. “Do you know who sent it?”

“No idea, sir.”

“Well, it’s an odd thing for Santa to bring. File it with the other unexplained objects, will you?”

“Of course.”

While Goro busied himself with working out where to put it, the doorbell rang, and Kitaoka answered it before Goro could properly interrupt himself.

“Hello, Mr Kitaoka,” said the useless journalist Kitaoka had been reminded of the night before. “I was wondering if maybe, ah I could just come in and- well you see there’s- 

“Piss off. I’m taking the day off to enjoy my Christmas,” Kitaoka said, and slammed the door in the journalist’s face so hard his own ears rang.

“Do you need me to remove someone, sir?” Goro asked, slightly muffled as he was bent over checking through boxes.

“Not at all. I’ve sorted it out already,” Kitaoka said, glad to have let the view develop. “Merry Christmas, dear Goro.”

“Merry Christmas, sir.”


End file.
